Trick or Treat
by Jelsemium
Summary: Halloween at Quark Towers. Rusty the Boy Robot goes trick or treating. Dwayne Hunter and Erica Slate are set up. The Pit Crew babysits Big Guy. This is COMPLETE!
1. Chapt. 1

Big Guy and Rusty the Boy Robot:   
Trick or Treat, Part 1   
By Jill Weber   
Disclaimer: The characters are owned by Sony Corporation and Darkhorse Entertainment. They are used without permission and without intent to make a profit.

Dr. Erika Slate scowled at the test results. The numbers just didn't make any sense, it was almost as if somebody had gone through her computer and moved the data around. Obviously something had corrupted her data, she wondered if she had a virus. Consulting with co-workers didn't yield any useful information. Their theories ran the gamut from 'bad data' to 'sunspots' to 'It was a stupid idea for an experiment anyway. It must have been Donovan's idea.'   
  
Dr. Lester was the least help. She'd insisted that it had to be gremlins. Slate just rolled her eyes at the older woman and went back to her lab. Whatever the cause, it looked like she was going to have to start over from scratch. Speaking of scratch… a faint scratching noise behind her made Slate whirl around. "Oh, Rusty," she said, putting her hand over her heart.   
  
"I'm sorry, Dr. Slate," Rusty said apologetically. The red-headed boy robot had a magazine in his hand. From where she stood, Slate could barely make out a blur of orange and black.  
  
"That's all right, I just didn't hear you come in." She gave a final scowl at the results of her last test. The numbers were just plain wrong! Then she decided that Rusty's interruption was a sign that she needed to take a break. "What did you want?" She asked, giving her prize project her undivided attention.  
  
"What's trick or treating?" Rusty asked. He held up the magazine, which showed pictures of lit jack-o-lanterns.  
  
That explained the color scheme, she thought. Then she had to figure out how to explain trick or treating. "It's what children do on Halloween, Rusty. They dress up in costume and go door to door and people give them candy." It really was an odd custom, when you thought about it. She was worried that Rusty would want to go trick or treating because she wouldn't have time to take him. She was just too busy trying to work out this project.  
  
"What's Halloween?" Rusty asked.  
  
Oh, good, on to the harder questions. Slate wasn't quite ready to explain religious holidays and pagan cultures just yet. So she tried as simple a version as she thought Rusty would let her get away with. "Well, Rusty, Halloween is a holiday that started out as a memorial to the people…" She cleared her throat uncomfortably. "Well, to the people who are no longer with us."  
  
Rusty blinked up at her. "Oh, you mean, like dead people?"  
  
Slate nodded and Rusty frowned. "Why do people celebrate about dead people, Dr. Slate? Shouldn't they be sad?"  
  
Slate nodded slowly. "Well, losing people that you love is sad. Halloween, however, is to celebrate their lives, not their deaths. You see, most people think it would be sad if their loved ones forgot the good times that they used to have. They want to be remembered with joy. So they have a special feast for to remember what fun they used to have."  
  
Rusty scratched his metallic hair. "So, what's with the ghosts and goblins and stuff?"  
  
Slate adjusted her glasses. "Well, a long time ago, people thought that the spirits of people who had died were threatened by bad spirits. So, they dressed up in horrible costumes in order to frighten the bad spirits into leaving their loved ones alone."  
  
Rusty frowned. "But why do they dress up as ballerinas and firemen and stuff? That wouldn't frighten a demon, would it?"  
  
Slate grinned. "Well, as people forgot the original reason for dressing up, they moved away from just scary costumes. A lot of people just like to dress up. I guess it's a form of make-believe."  
  
A look of understanding came over Rusty's face, then he came back to his original question: "So, what's with the trick or treating? Why do people just GIVE kids candy? Do the kids have to pay or do chore…?" Rusty thought about it another moment. "Or do they have to do tricks, like the animals in a circus?"  
  
Slate's grin widened. "No, the children don't have to pay for the candy, or do tricks for it. In fact, the ritual started out as a bribe to prevent children from playing practical jokes on people. Hence the phrase 'Trick or treat'."  
  
Rusty boggled at that. "But… that's not fun! That's extortion! Big Guy says forcing people to give you things is bad!" Which, of course, meant in Rusty's eyes it was very bad. Big Guy was never wrong about these things.  
  
"Well, not anymore it isn't," Slate said. "Children don't actually play tricks on people anymore."  
  
"But you just said that they used to!" Rusty demanded.  
  
"Yes, but that was a long time ago, Rusty. Times have changed since then." Slate sighed. She could remember when she was a child, it was safe enough to run around the neighborhood and get candied apples and Rice Krispie bars. Now, everything had to be supervised and if it wasn't factory packed, it was trashed. In fact, she had a vague memory of a memo going around that there would be trick or treating in the Quark Tower so the children of employees could have a safe holiday.  
  
Rusty's snort of disgust interrupted her reverie. "That's no darn good. I guess I'm just as glad that I'm a robot and don't do things like that."  
  
Mentally, Dr. Slate breathed a sigh of relief, until Rusty's next words.  
  
"Besides, you'll be too busy on Halloween."  
  
Slate was taken aback. "Why are you so sure that I'll be too busy?"  
  
Rusty looked at her in surprise. "You're always too busy," he said. Then, turning back to the magazine, he walked casually out of the lab, unaware of the devastation he'd left behind.  
  
Slate's stomach hurt and she acknowledged the truth of Rusty's comment. She'd been putting in a lot of overtime lately. She had to remember that Rusty wasn't just a robot… he was a BOY robot, and he needed time to be a child. He needed family time, and Slate decided. Halloween would be a good place to start.   
  
She went back to her computer to look up that memo and found herself confronting her failed experiment. "Okay, I guess I don't have to succeed at everything," she sighed. She closed the experiment as a failure. When the 'reason for failure' question popped up, she debated her answer for a few moments: computer virus? Bad data? Sunspots? It was a dumb idea to begin with?" Finally, with a feeling of defiance, she typed in 'gremlins.' Then she went on to look for information about trick or treating in the Quark building.


	2. Chapt. 2

Trick or Treat, Part 2

By Jill Weber

Characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit

This chapter is dedicated to MadArtiste and prtygirl83

Lt. Dwayne Hunter looked at the sheet of paper in his hand as though he'd never seen anything like it. "What's this all about?" he asked Gen. Thorton.  
  
"It's called a leave of absence," Thorton replied. His face was deadpan, but there was a twinkle of amusement in his grey eyes. "I believe civilians call it a day off."  
  
"On a holiday?" Hunter asked skeptically. He looked at the Pit Crew as if he expected the three of them to be playing a practical joke on him.  
  
His loyal, hardworking members of the Big Guy's maintenance team looked back at him with expressions of such sweet innocence that Hunter knew that he was being set up for something. "I just wish I knew what was on your evil little minds," he said to them.  
  
Thorton leaned forward in his chair, rested his elbows on his desk and steepled his fingers in front of his face to hide his grin. Hunter didn't see Thorton's amusement. The former fighter pilot cum Big Guy's 'chief mechanic' was too focused on the Pit Crew's overdone expressions of surprise and hurt.  
  
"Lieutenant!" gasped the grey haired, lanky master sergeant. Mack held his hat over his heart like he was about to recite the Pledge of Allegiance. "We just mentioned to the general that you've been working so hard lately that you deserve a break."  
  
"We've all been working hard," Dwayne said. He looked at the papers in his hand, trying to guess what the joke was. His leave was for Oct. 31 and Nov. 1. He couldn't see any particular joke in having Halloween off. It wasn't like April fool's day, now.  
  
"But we can cover for each other," Jo pointed out. "So we get more time off than you do." The freckled faced blonde smiled at Hunter with such sincerity that Hunter was tempted to make a break for it.   
  
But with his characteristic courage, Hunter looked over at the tall, muscular black man who was his second in command. "You know we usually get two or three calls on Halloween," he cautioned.  
  
Garth shrugged. "And you know that they're usually false alarms or something minor, like a practical joke getting out of hand or some intergalactic tourists who should have made a left at Alpha Centauri. Nothing I can't handle." He paused, and then added his kicker. "Don't you TRUST me?"  
  
There was no way to gracefully argue with that one, so Hunter didn't try. "Okay," he looked at his leave papers with some bemusement. "But I wish you'd given me a little more advance notice," he said. "I don't have any plans for Halloween."  
  
"Oh, just use some of your usual resourcefulness," Thorton said. The white haired general leaned back in his chair, all traces of amusement carefully hidden.  
  
"There's plenty to do," Mack said.  
  
"Yes, there are all sorts of special events being planned," Jo said with un-Jo like perkiness. "Amusement parks are having fright nights. Restaurants are having dinner specials."  
  
"Even Quark is planning a special night of mirth and 'scariment,'" Garth said. He held out a bright orange flier. "See? Maybe you could get Dr. Slate to invite you to Quark's Halloween party."   
  
Hunter was only barely able to restrain his gasp of horror. 'Matchmaking! These three…' He looked at Gen. Thorton's bland expression and amended the thought to: 'These four… monsters… were trying to fix him up with Erika Slate!' He'd better put a quick stop to that!  
  
"I guess I'll call my sister and see what her plans are," he smiled blandly at the four poker faces. "She'll probably be glad to see me." Which was true, he realized. He and Darlene hadn't spent a Halloween together since he'd enlisted almost two decades ago. Suddenly, he felt very happy about this unexpected holiday treat and he began to look forward to seeing his sister again.  
  
"Well, we should make sure that Big Guy is ready for anything, if you're going to be short handed for the night," he said to the Pit Crew.  
  
"Yes, sir," they said with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm.  
  
"Dismissed," Thorton said. If the general was disappointed, he gave no sign of it. Of course, Thorton hadn't survived three decades of attacks from aliens, mutants and assorted monsters by only having one trick up his sleeve.  
  
As they filed out of Thorton's office, Hunter asked the crew. "You're sure you don't mind me taking time off during the busy season?"  
  
"Nah, we can take care of business," Garth said. "What could possibly happen that we aren't ready for?"  
  
The four stopped as if somebody had yanked on their leashes. Three heads swiveled to direct glares at Garth, who winced and pinched the bridge of his nose.  
  
"Sorry, that just slipped out," Garth said.  
  
Hunter shook his head. "Well, I guess YOU will find out what you're not ready for." He strode off towards a bank of pay phones so he could call his sister.  
  
Behind him, his Pit Crew was feeling glum. Not only had their plan to throw Dwayne and Slate together failed; they were now operating under a well-known jinx.  
  
"You think it's going to be bad?" Garth asked forlornly.  
  
"I think we're doomed," Mack said.  
  
"I think you're an optimist," Jo replied.


	3. Chapt. 3

Trick or Treat, Pt 3.  
By Jill Weber  
Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

It was hard to hate somebody when you didn't know his name, or even what he looked like, Neugogg decided. It wasn't impossible, however. The giant spider knew there was a human pilot inside the robot known as Big Guy. He just didn't know who it was. He just knew he hated that pilot with every fiber of his mutated being. 

'It must be one of Big Guy's maintenance crew,' he deduced for the umpteenth time. However, that did him no good. Back when he was a mere human, he had never paid any attention to the BGY-11 much less the military peons who tended to the giant robot. However, since the bizarre accident that had transformed him into a giant, four legged spider, he'd come to regret his indifference. He'd love to know the name of the man he was planning to murder.

'Once I get out of this maximum security cell,' Neugogg sighed. He glared at his chess set with impatience. He'd grown tired of chess as a diversion. Fortunately, he'd come up with a new one, unknown to his human captors. His mutation had given him vast psychic powers like telepathy, precognition, hypnosis and the ability to suck the mind out of any human he could get his second mouth on. 

Recently, he'd discovered he had telekinesis, too. He could move objects with his mind. Well, he could move very small objects with his mind. Okay, he could manipulate electrons. In this technology dependent world that had to be good for something, didn't it? He hadn't been able to get the cell lock to unlatch, mostly because the system had back ups coming out the wazoo (a term he'd picked up from that infernal pilot). However, he found that he could tap into nearby computers. Since his escape proof cell was in the Quark Tower, this gave him access to a lot of computers. Surely one of them had the information he needed to open his cell.

He continued to poke his way through Quark Industries' computer network, unaware of the havoc he was leaving behind him.


	4. Chapt. 4

Trick or Treat, Pt 4.  
By Jill Weber  
Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

"We're doomed, Jenny," Dr. Axel Donovan moaned as he clutched his head in his hands. "These gremlins are going to cost us millions!"

The sienna furred simian put the cup of cappuccino down with exaggerated care. "Sir, there are not such things as gremlins," the monkey known as Jenny said.

"Dr. Lester keeps saying that gremlins are corrupting her databases," Donovan whined.

"Dr. Lester likes to believe in superstitions," Jenny said snidely. "It helps her deal with her own incompetence."

"Yeah, well look at this," Donovan shoved a sheaf of papers, folded open to the last page, over to his loyal assistant.

Jenny picked up the report curiously. "Hm… reason for experiment's failure… gremlins?" She flipped the pages over to the front one. "Dr. E. Slate?" she asked. "She must be pulling your leg."

"Has Slate ever shown any signs of having a sense of humor?" Donovan demanded.

'Well, she puts up with you,' was Jenny's first response. She killed the impulse quickly, though, and contented herself with shaking her head.

"I didn't think so. If Slate thinks there's something in this 'gremlin' theory of Lester's, then there probably is. After all, we've seen stranger things than gremlins, haven't we?"

Jenny couldn't argue with that. In fact, considering all the mutants, aliens, robots and monsters that they'd encountered, a few gremlins would fit right in. "So, what do we do?" she asked.

"I don't…" Donovan started. Then he sat up straight with a triumphant expression that frightened Jenny more than anything on the list of general weirdness ever had. Donovan with an idea was a terrifying thing. "I know, I'll have Dr. Slate devise a gremlin zapper! That should handle the situation!"


	5. Chapt. 5

Darlene Hunter Cook collapsed on her couch and clutched her hair in both hands. Her husband was laid up with a sprained knee and would be unable to defend their home from the little monsters… um, answer the door for the trick-or-treaters tonight. She couldn't find anybody who could take Jeffy trick-or-treating. Everybody that she'd called, neighbors, co-workers, parents of Jeffy's friends had some excuse: they had family gatherings to go to, they were going out of town, the kids had the flu. None of them specifically mentioned Jeffy's birthday party fiasco. Some of them might not even be thinking about it. "Geez-louise, let yourself get merged with the wall one little time and suddenly you're off the A-list," muttered Darlene.  
  
Jeffy was trying to be brave about it, but he was visibly upset, and Darlene couldn't blame him. He'd worked on his costume for months! And there was no way it would fit next year, not at the rate he was growing!  
  
She slammed her fist down on the arm of the couch and spat out a few 25¢ words. One of the photographs on the end table fell over with a smack! Contritely, Darlene picked up the picture to see if it was damaged. It was her parent's wedding photo. Darlene ran her fingers over the glass and smile sadly. Even after all these years, she still missed her parents. "I really wish you were here, Mom," she said. "I could really use your help, or at least your advice," she said. "What am I going to do?"  
  
The phone chose to answer her, causing her to leap from the couch like a startled cat. She snatched up the phone. "Hello?"  
  
A familiar dry voice spoke warmly. "Hey, how's my favorite sister?"  
  
Darlene had to laugh at Dwayne's standard greeting. "You're only sister is climbing the walls," she said. "How are you?"  
  
"Surprisingly well," Dwayne said. "What's wrong on your end? Jeffy can't make up his mind what to wear for Halloween?"  
  
"No, Jeffy made up his mind months ago. He spent all summer creating a Rusty the Boy Robot costume for Halloween. Looks pretty authentic, if you ask me."  
  
Dwayne whistled. "Whoa, so what's wrong, then?"  
  
"Jordan managed to sprain his knee yesterday. The doctor says to stay off of it as much as possible, which means somebody else has to hand out the goodies to the trick-or-treaters," Darlene sighed.  
  
There was a pause on the other side. "So, what happens with Jeffy and his costume?" Dwayne asked, even though he had to have figured out the answer.  
  
"I couldn't find anybody for him to go trick-or-treating with," Darlene sighed.  
  
"This wouldn't happen to have anything to do with aliens showing up at his birthday party, would it?" Dwayne sounded upset. It wasn't his fault that Rusty had gate crashed Jeffy's party. And even that wouldn't have mattered if Rusty hadn't been followed by a couple of nasty aliens with a grudge.  
  
Darlene sighed. "Dwayne, it's not your fault, and it's not Rusty's fault. So stop kicking yourself."  
  
"I'll try," Dwayne said. "How 'bout I make it up to you by taking care of Jeffy on Halloween?"  
  
"You don't have to… WHAT?" The offer was so unexpected that it took Darlene most of a sentence to realize what Dwayne had just proposed.  
  
"I happen to have the day off," Dwayne said cheerfully. "I could go trick or treating with Jeffy." He felt a little smug about doing an end run around Thorton and the Pit Crew's plan to throw him together with Dr. Slate all night.  
  
"You can? Really? What happens if there's an emergency?"  
  
*Wait a minute, avoiding the plan to fix me up with Slate means NOT spending the evening with Slate!* Dwayne suddenly realized. What was he thinking? "Um," he said. "Wait, if I bring Jeffy here, he can go trick-or-treating with Rusty. Then, if there's an emergency, Dr. Slate, Rusty's creator, can look out for Jeffy while Rusty and Big Guy go out and save the world, or whatever." He really should let Thorton and his crew win this one. He didn't want to hurt their feelings!   
  
"Oh? Are you sure Rusty is going trick-or-treating?" Darlene said.  
  
Dwayne tried to sound hurt. "Don't you trust me?" he asked.  
  
"I trust you with my life, my wallet and my only son," Darlene said sweetly. "But your answer sounded off the cuff to me, so maybe you'd better clear it with this Dr. Slate, first."  
  
"Okay," Dwayne said. "But if that doesn't work, I'll tell you what. If I get an emergency call, I'll get Jeffy home before I go answer it."  
  
"Fair enough," Darlene said. "Let me know before Jeffy gets home from school, will ya? That would make my life considerably easier."  
  
"Can do," Dwayne promised. He hung up, then sighed. "And, once again, I turn to the ever inventive mind of Dr. Slate for a rescue," he said to himself. He didn't find the prospect at all displeasing, actually. He picked up the phone again and dialed another number.  
  



	6. Chapt. 6

Trick or Treat, Pt 6.

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

Neugogg was getting a headache, and when you're a fifteen foot spider with a proportionally sized cranium, that was a lot of head to ache! Pushing electrons around was not getting him anywhere. On the other hand, it was still better than playing another round of chess. If only he had some way of finding the code that would unlock his cell! 

He sighed and put his mind back to work again. He had to get out of there. The 'smell' of all those scientific brains around him was driving him to distraction. He wanted to absorb those intellects! And, above all, he wanted to get revenge on the 'Big Guy'. He was going to eat that pilot's brain if it was the last thing he ever did in this life.

Erika Slate had a headache. She'd expected some sort of retaliation from Donovan over her 'gremlins' crack. She hadn't expected him to take her seriously! So, now she had to come up with some sort of defense against 'gremlins.' Wonderful, she had absolutely no idea where to start.

She pulled out the bottle of extra-strength ibuprofen marked 'Donovan' and helped herself to two tablets. She washed them down with some Arizona tea and wished that she could lay down for a few minutes. She rested her forehead against her fist and sighed.

"Dr. Slate, are you all right?" Rusty asked worriedly.

Slate sighed again. "I will be, once this headache goes away," she replied. The ringing phone made her scowl. 

"Would you like me to answer that?" Rusty asked, correctly interpreting her expression.

"Yes, please tell whoever's there to…" Slate had to revise her original statement, it wasn't the thing a woman wanted her child to repeat. "Tell them that I can't talk right now and to leave a message," Slate said.

Rusty picked up the phone. "Dr. Erika Slate's office," he said. "Rusty the Boy Robot speaking. Oh, hi! I'm sorry, Lt. Dwayne, but Dr. Slate can't…" 

If Rusty hadn't possessed titanium plated hands, Slate would have given him blisters the way she snatched the phone from him.

Rusty looked at his empty hand and grinned. "Glad I don't have pain receptors," he said, just loud enough for Slate to hear him.

If Slate heard the boy robot, she gave no sign. "Lieutenant, I'm sorry…" Slate started.

"Bad time?" Hunter said.

They both paused. 

"If this is a bad time…" Hunter started. 

"Well, it is, sort of," Slate said. "But I don't anticipate it being any better in the near future," she paused again. "So, what can I help you with?"

Hunter took in a deep breath. "Well, it's kind of a long story." And he explained Darlene's situation, adding in the fact that he had a totally unexpected leave of absence for Oct. 31 and Nov. 1. He left out the part about some parents being reluctant to have Jeffy tag along because of the aliens that had come looking for Rusty. Slate didn't need that kind of guilt trip.

"Well, if I can get this project finished by tomorrow, then I have a solution to the trick or treat problem," Slate said. "Quark is having a trick-or-treat event throughout Quark Towers. It'll help keep the children off the streets and cut down on the possibility of somebody meeting a real monster. I was planning on taking Rusty. Guests are permitted, so you and Jeffy are more than welcome to come with us."

"Whoopee!" Rusty started dancing around the room and waving his arms.

"I think Rusty would enjoy it," Slate said dryly.

"So it would seem," Hunter, who could hear Rusty clearly, replied in amusement.

"The trick or treating starts at 5:30 and runs until 8:30," Slate said. 

"Sounds good, I'll meet you in your office about five," Dwayne said.

"Great, now if I could only solve my problem as easily," Slate sighed.

"Whee!" Rusty shouted as he did handsprings around the room.

"What's bothering you?" Dwayne asked. "Besides Rusty's boyish enthusiasm, that is."

"Donovan wants me to build a gremlin zapper," Slate sighed. She explained how her snotty comment about gremlins had alarmed Donovan.

"Well, I can't blame him," Dwayne confessed. "After all, if aliens can meld a human into the wall of her house and floor cleaners can take on the Big Guy, then maybe you'd better have an anti-gremlin defense… just in case."

Slate sighed. "You're no help," she said.

"I know who will be," Hunter said slyly. "My Pit Crew would be more than happy to help you out here."

There was a note of irony in Hunter's voice that Slate didn't quite understand.

"Hooray!" Rusty was literally flying now.

"I wouldn't want to impose on them," Slate said.

"Oh, it won't be an imposition at all," Hunter assured her. "Trust me."

"Very well," Slate said. "I could use all the help I can get." She still wasn't understanding Hunter's tone. It was almost as if he intended to punish them. What could the Pit Crew have done to annoy him?

"Whoo-hoo! Hey, Lt. Dwayne, what are you going to dress as?" Rusty hollered. 

"Dress as?" Hunter and Slate blurted out.

"Yeah, you know, costumes!" Rusty said. "The magazine says that everybody's supposed to wear costumes, even the adults."

"For the luvva Mary," sighed Slate.


	7. Chapt. 7

Trick or Treat, Pt 7.

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

****

"No, I am NOT going to wear a dress," Hunter said, glaring down at Jo.

"Aw, you'd look so cute!" Jo protested between push-ups. She looked up and caught Hunter's dirty look. "Another ten?" she inquired brightly.

"Just keep going until I say stop," Hunter told her. The lieutenant glared at the other two members of the Pit Crew. "Any *helpful* suggestions?"

"How about dressing up as Big Guy?" Jo said.

Hunter just gave her another dirty look.

"You could wear your flight suit," Garth said mildly from behind his test equipment.

"You and Slate both," Mack added. "You'll be together, anyway, might as well have matching costumes."

Slate looked at Hunter. "That might work," she said.

Hunter shook his head. "Jeffy won't let me get away with dressing in my everyday outfit," he pointed out. "And I'll bet Rusty will be just as picky."

Slate opened her mouth to object, but then had to acknowledge the truth of Hunter's statement.

"You could always add a few frills," Jo said from the floor. "Instead of pilots you could be something like Ghostbusters!"

Hunter frowned down at her. Then nodded slowly. "Okay, you can stop," he said. 

Jo bounced to her feet. "And we have just the accessories that you need!" She did the 'game show hostess' wave towards Garth. "Sergeant Williams, tell the nice folk... and the lieutenant... what they've won!"

Hunter didn't even have time to make a face at Jo when Garth pulled out something that looked like a backpack with a long rod attached.

"Here's the gremlin zapper that you asked for," Garth said. He aimed away from everybody and pulled the trigger. The rod started glowing purple and purple sparks danced along the long rod with joyous abandon. "Some static electricity. Showy, but harmless... except to Gremlins, of course." 

Jo walked over and touched the glowing rod. Her hair stood out on end and she grinned. "Of course, Slate could always go as Bride of Frankenstein," she said.

"Don't even go there," Hunter said, shaking his head. (After all, if Slate was the *Bride* of Frankenstein, what would that make him?) "Okay, I guess that takes care of both the costume and the Gremlin Zapper. Have we forgotten anything?"

***

Meanwhile, in his prison, Dr. Neugogg was making an interesting discovery. 'Well, what do you know?' he thought. 'I don't need the codes to the locks after all. I can just manipulate the electron flow and open them directly!' He chortled. 'But first, I'll just poke around a little more and see if I can find the identity of that pilot...'


	8. Chapt. 8

Trick or Treat, Pt 8.

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

Rusty was getting depressed. He was surfing the net for inspiration for a costume, but nothing appealed.

"Knock, knock?" a familiar female voice said.

Rusty twisted around. "Oh, hi, Dr. Lester," he said. "Sorry, Dr. Slate isn't in right now. She'll be back in about an hour."

"Oh, guess that means she won't be joining me for lunch," Dr. Lester said. The older-than-Dr.-Slate woman roboticist brushed her sandy brown hair out of her eyes. "What are you up to, youngster?"

"Oh, I was trying to come up with an idea for a costume, but..." he gestured at the CRT. "I don't want something like those!"

Dr. Lester looked over her glasses. "Why no aliens? Oh, too much like work?"

Rusty nodded and added: "And if the Big Guy signal comes, I don't want Big Guy thinking I'm a BAD GUY!"

Dr. Lester nodded. "It'd be embarrassing if he shot at you," she said.

Rusty shuddered. "Yeah!"

Dr. Lester frowned and tapped her lower lip with a pencil. "How about a ghost?"

Rusty sighed. "Lots of kids go as ghosts," he complained.

"But how many of them can actually fly?" Dr. Lester responded. "I have an idea. We can rig up a jack-o-lantern head for you with wire and tissue paper..."

Rusty leaped up from his stool. "And with a sheet for the body, I'd look really cool!"

"Yes, indeed!" Dr. Lester said. "Why don't you come shopping with me?"

Rusty looked at her wide eyed. "I don't want to be a trouble!" he said. 

"Nah, you won't be any trouble, Rusty," Dr. Lester said. "I hate eating alone, anyways. We can get some craft supplies and something for me to eat and fix up your costume in my lab."

"Wow! Thanks!"

"Don't mention it, I still owe you for that undersea rescue, remember?"


	9. Chapt. 9

Trick or Treat, Pt 9.

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

***

Dedicated to the patient ones: prtygirl83, MadArtiste, Margaret , the immortal and Ozma

***

Jeffy was thrilled. Jeffy bounced and chattered all the way to Quark Tower. "Wow! This is gweat, Uncle Dwayne! Do you think that Wusty will like my costume? What are you weawing?" (If Jeffy noticed that Dwayne was dressed in a flight suit, he gave no sign.) 

Dwayne never got a word in edgewise through his nephew's excited chatter. When they arrived, the only thing that restrained Jeffy from running ahead of the slow moving adult was the fact that he didn't know where he was going. When the elevator stopped, Jeffy bolted down the hall, and, following Hunter's guiding voice, charged into Dr. Slate's office, generating enough kinetic energy to light a baseball stadium. 

When Hunter arrived at a slightly more dignified pace (but only dignified as compared to Jeffy's pace) he preformed the introductions. "Jeffy, this is Dr. Slate, Rusty's creator," Dwayne said gravely. "Doc, this is my nephew, Jeffy Cook."

"Hi, ma'm, pleased to meet you!" Jeffy said enthusiastically, offering his hand.

"Pleased to meet you, too," Slate smiled and shook his hand.

Pleasantries over with, Jeffy got down to business. "Where's Wusty?" He looked around the room as if expected Rusty to materialize from the woodwork.

Slate straightened up with a slight worried frown creasing her brow. "I was wondering the same thing myself," she confessed. She raised an eyebrow at Hunter.

Dwayne shrugged. "I haven't gotten a call," he said. "On the other hand, they may have cut me out of the loop for tonight."

Slate's other eyebrow went up, but the only answer to her unspoken question was another shrug. Dwayne didn't want to get into how he thought Gen. Thorton and the Pit Crew were trying to pair them off. He could think of more embarrassing topics, but not many.

Before Slate could pursue that topic, Rusty came bursting into the lab. "Hi, is Jeffy here… Oh, hi, Jeffy!"

The boy and the boy robot had a joyful and noisy reunion.

"You'd think they hadn't seen each other in years," Dwayne said with a rueful smile. It wasn't that he was jealous… okay, he was jealous. He didn't get that many chances to spend time with his nephew and it hurt a little to be overshadowed by Rusty.

"Poor Rusty doesn't get that many chances to interact with real children," Slate said regretfully. 

Before Hunter could come up with a response to that, the boy robot turned his attention to them. "I've got my costume all ready!" Rusty blurted. "What are you wearing?" Then he saw Slate and Hunter's Ghostbuster outfits and fell over laughing.

Hunter and Slate exchanged hurt looks. "I thought you'd like these," Slate said.

"I do! Honest!" Rusty bubbled, leaping to his feet. "Wait'll I show you my costume. Dr. Lester helped me make it. It's the coolest costume ever!"

"No, MY costume is the coolest costume ever!" Jeffy proclaimed. "Wait'll you see it!"

They split up into two teams of one adult assistant per hyperactive kid. When the costumes were in place, they all stood back to admire the results.

One look at Rusty's ghost costume explained the hilarity over their Ghostbuster Costumes. 

"It looks like we planned this!" Rusty crowed. "This is the coolest costume ever!" The pumpkin ghost floated gracefully across the room towards the adults.

"No, THIS is the coolest costume eveh!" blurted Jeffy.

Rusty turned around as was dumbstruck. Jeffy had on the same style red shorts, white t-shirt, red tennis shoes and red gloves that Rusty habitually wore. Crowning the costume was an aluminum foil 'wig' shaped and painted to resemble Rusty's aerodynamic cranium.

"Whoa!" Rusty said, flattery dripping from his tones. "Did you make that yourself?"

Jeffy nodded solemnly, and carefully. "Mom helped me with the hat," he added. "An' she bought the clothes, but I designed it!"

"That is an impressive costume," Dr. Slate said with genuine admiration. "Are you going to be a costume designer when you grow up?"

Jeffy shook his head, again keeping the limitations of his headgear in mind. "No, ma'm," he said. "I'm going to be a mechanic, just like Uncle Dwayne!" The look of pure hero-worship that he gave Hunter squashed the green-eyed monster of jealousy flat.

"Cool!" Rusty exclaimed. "Maybe you could be my chief mechanic when you grow up!"

"Awwight!" Jeffy said. He leaped up while Rusty drifted down to give a high five. 

"Come on! We don't want to miss the opening!" Rusty said. "They're starting off with the haunted house through the labs!"

The two boys raced out of the lab towards the elevators. The two adults exchanged bemused looks.

"At one point," Hunter confessed. "I actually thought that babysitting Jeffy would be easier than defending the planet from alien invaders."

"I'm glad you're man enough to admit your mistake, Lieutenant," Slate said gravely as they followed the boys at something that was very nearly, but not quite, a dignified pace.


	10. Chapt. 10

Trick or Treat, Pt 10

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

***

The elevator stopped on Slate's floor on its way from the penthouse to the floor with the maze. The doors slip open with a quiet whoosh.

Lt. Dwayne Hunter was a battle hardened veteran and accustomed to aliens, mutants and other bizarre lifeforms, but this was almost too much. He goggled like a tourist and backed off in alarm.

Rusty, that the brave little robot, cowered behind his creator like a frightened human child. 

Dr. Erika Slate -- the lady scientist who had battled body-snatching squid, alien gangsters and a crazed space station powerful enough to blow up the moon -- felt like she was going to faint. 

Only Jeffy Cook, the newcomer to Quark Towers, was unaffected by the apparition confronting them.

The larger of the two passengers already inside the elevator was a stunning vision in floor length, midnight blue velvet brocade gown with a sweep train skirt. The gown's off the shoulder design emphasized the whiteness of the plump shoulders and neck. The opera length, midnight blue gloves set off the dazzling diamond rings. Diamonds also glittered on the swan colored neck, earlobes and the upswept, elegantly coiffured red hair.

The piece de resistance of the ensemble was the tuxedo clad monkey perched on Dr. Axel Donovan's bare right shoulder.

"Don't just stand there staring," grumbled Donovan. "Get on or go away!"

The human boy bounded into the elevator, compelling the human adults and the boy robot to follow, even though it went against their collective better judgment. 

"Wow! Pwetty!" Jeffy enthused.

"See, I told you the blue brocade was the way to go," Jenny crowed.

"Dr. Donovan?" Rusty squeaked.

Hunter and Slate were still too shell shocked to make a sound. They just edged into the elevator as if trying to avoid drawing attention to themselves.

"Lost a bet," Jenny explained smugly as she smoothed her cute little tuxedo.

There wasn't anything to add to that, so the adult humans rode to the party floor in silence. Rusty kept looking at his belt buckle, as if willing there to be a summons from Big Guy. Hunter understood his feeling perfectly. 

As Donovan disembarked from the elevator, Hunter automatically stuck his arm out to prevent the door from slamming on Donovan's train. All he got as a thank you was a snarl to keep his hands to himself.

Slate, Rusty and Hunter stared down the hall until Donovan had sashayed out of sight. Then Slate finally found her voice. "That was the scariest thing I've ever seen," said Slate.

Before Hunter could respond, Jenny came bounding back and scrambled onto his shoulder. "Oh, before I forget, Lieutenant, give these to your Pit Crew," she said, handing Hunter a packet of movie passes. "I would have never thought of any of this without their oh-so kind help." Then she was gone again.

There was a long moment of silence until the elevator door began bumping against Hunter's arm like it wanted attention.

"Lt. Dwayne?" Rusty asked. "What was that all about?"

"Kid, I don't even WANT to know," Hunter said. He gestured with his free hand. "Shall we?"

"Why not?" Slate said. "I don't see how the evening can get any more frightening."


	11. Chapt. 11

Trick or Treat, Pt 11

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

***

Hieronymus Neugogg decided that he would have to give up on his quest for the pilot's identity for now. This was just too good an opportunity to pass up. He knew what day it was, of course, and he sensed the influx of many visitors. 

More importantly, he sensed the influx of many party preparations, including a platter of goodies sent up to the guards that were just out of reach of his mind control. The platter of cookies and cupcakes distracted the guards at the critical moment of Neugogg's escape.

The first they knew of the breach in security was when the giant, four-legged spider burst into the guard room. Sucker tipped tentacles lashed out and fastened onto their heads. 

Within moments, Neugogg had absorbed their minds, leaving them babbling and harmless idiots. "Pah! Their minds are just junk food," he complained. He looked at the empty platter. "And the swine didn't even leave me any sugar cookies," grumbled the mutant. 

"Well, I guess I'll just have to do some trick-or-treating on my own, won't I?" he laughed triumphantly as he dragged his victims into his former cell. "I think I'll start with something sweet and juicy… specifically, the mind of Dr. Erika Slate."


	12. Chapt. 12

Trick or Treat, Pt 12

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

***

The poker game was going a little too well, in Garth's opinion. His winnings were piling up at a fast rate, which made him feel all the more uneasy, not to mention annoyed. Why didn't he get these kinds of hands when they were playing for _real_ money?

He fanned his cards out again and calculated. "I see your sweettarts and wax vampire lips and raise you three pumpkin cookies," he said. 

With a grim smile, he pushed the candy and _three_ of Darlene Hunter Cook's homemade sugar cookies into the kitty.

"Whoa," Mack said. "That's too rich for _my_ blood." He flipped his cards into the discard pile.

Jo looked at the pile of sweets in the middle of the table and tossed her cards in after Mack's. "Even if I could win, if I ate all that, I'd wind up as big as Big Guy." She looked at her greatly diminished pile of treats. "I think that's it for me."

"One more hand," requested Mack. "I want to get some of my chocolate back."

Garth grinned. "Hey, if you really want to keep _losing_, that's fine by me."

Mack looked at his pile. "I don't even like licorice whips," he muttered. "No point in not trying for something better."

"Guess my girlish figure will be safe tonight," Jo sighed. "I'm in."


	13. Chapt. 13

Trick or Treat, Pt 13

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

***

Building Maintenance had gotten into the spirit of the season by turning the party floor into a labyrinth. Apparently, they'd been wanting to try something like this since the one thousandth complaint about the Quark Building being a big maze and how could anybody find their way?

The walls were covered with black draperies and the lights were dimmed. There were a lot of signs posted, some of which actually gave useful information. There were all sorts of surprises hidden in the maze. Quark employees were posted at various stages to hand out treats or play tricks or to give out directions, if really needed.

The path lead through the corridors, in and out of offices, up some stairs, down some stairs and in my lady's chamber… actually the ladies room, where three 'witches' were stirring a smoking cauldron.

The human children shrieked with glee when 'monsters' popped out from behind curtains and closed doors. The adults jumped or laughed, depending on how prepared they were. The boy robot had to keep up a constant mantra of 'They're human, don't shoot. They're human, don't shoot. They're human, don't shoot.'

Once, when one of the scientists got particularly obnoxious about giving accurate directions, Rusty increased his volume just enough to let Dr. Huckle hear him. 

That brought about a rapid change of attitude, but not for long. "You little brat, I ought to…" Huckle snarled under his breath.

"Watch your language," Hunter said. "And remember that Rusty saved your miserable hide once."

Whatever Huckle planned to reply to that was left unsaid once the scientist met Hunter's icy glare.

At the end of the maze was the party room. IF Building Maintenance had gone all out for the maze, they'd gone totally overboard for this room. There were pumpkins and candles apparently floating in midair while witches and owls flocked across the ceiling in a hologram that made the ceiling look like the night sky.

"Whoa! Look at the goodies!" Jeffy exclaimed.

Rusty looked over the tables that looked ready to collapse under the weight of all the food and party favors. "What is all this stuff?" he asked.

He and Jeffy walked behind the group of children who were exclaiming over the various treats. Equally curious, Slate and Hunter trailed after them. 

"Not so fast!" Dr. Lester laughed. "You have to wait until everybody has arrived!" She was dressed in swashbuckling clothes that had CDs and floppy disks plastered all over it. 

She was standing next to a large punch bowl that was bubbling and emitting steam.

"Why is it steaming?" Jeffy asked.

"I added dry ice," Dr. Lester explained. "That's frozen carbon dioxide and it evaporates at room temperature. It's harmless, but it looks cool."

"You look cool, too," Rusty said. "What are you?" 

Lester grinned. "Why thank you, Rusty," she replied. "I'm a software pirate."

Rusty and Jeffy fell over laughing.

"Ow, that's _bad_," Hunter said.

"Look who's talking," Slate responded, poking him in the ribs. 

"I do not make bad puns," Hunter said with dignity. I make _horrible_ puns."

Dr. Lester laughed. "We'll have to try a pun-off someday. Loser buys pizza."

Hunter shook his head. "Anytime you feel like buying lunch, Doc," he said.

"Remind me to sell tickets," Slate put in. She looked at the food. "Cake, candy, popcorn, ice cream. Is there anything _healthy_ here?" she asked.

"Why are you worried?" Dr. Lester said. "Rusty can't even get cavities!"

"I was thinking of what I could eat," Slate replied. "Got to keep my girlish figure, you know."

"Well, there are apples," Hunter said in such bland tones that Slate knew there was a punch line coming.

"Really? Caramel coated ones, no doubt," she said.

"Them, too," Hunter agreed. "But I was referring to those."

He pointed and Slate looked.

"Oh, goody," she said. If I want to eat something healthy, I have to stick my head in a tub of ice water and catch pneumonia."

"Maybe you should stick to sugar," Dr. Lester said kindly. "You can work it off tomorrow."

Rusty looked to where Hunter had pointed. "Why are those apples floating in a tub of water? Aren't they clean enough yet?"

So Slate explained about bobbing for apples while Jeffy had to be physically restrained from giving an impromptu demonstration.

"Save it for the party, Champ," Hunter advised.


	14. Chapt. 14

Trick or Treat, Pt 14

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

***

Garth smiled and dealt another hand. He picked up his cards and his smile vanished and he gave serious thought to having a temper tantrum. 'I don't believe this! A Royal Flush!' He glared at the table. 'And there isn't even any decent candy left to win!' He sighed. He should have quit while he was ahead and maybe he'd have gotten this hand when he was playing for money.

"Maybe we should just fold, now," Mack muttered when he saw the expression on Garth's face.

"Maybe you should just concede the next twenty or so poker hands to me," Garth growled in disgust.

"Your hand's that good?" Jo asked. She looked at her own hand, then threw it down.

Garth sighed and laid his cards on the table. No point really in hiding it. There was nothing left to win.

"Ouch," Mack said.

"We're doomed," Jo said. "This good a hand, combined with what you said earlier, is a sure indication that something horrible is about to happen."

"_About_ to happen?" Garth blurted. "I just got dealt a pat royal flush and there's nothing to win. What could be worse than that?"

Mack sighed. "That's the second time you said something to that effect. I agree with Jo, we're doomed."

"You two sound like Dr. Lester and her pet superstitions."

Jo shrugged. "You can't escape it. You're luck's been so good this far…"

"That doesn't meant that all Hello is going to burst loose," Garth said.

Just then, both Slate's signal and the Big Guy signal went off.

"Crud," Garth added as they abandoned the game and headed for their stations.

As Garth powered up Big Guy, his stomach felt like it was being tied in knots. There was no communication from Rusty. Knowing the kid, that meant he had his hands full. 

If Jo and Mack were correct, this was going to be something nasty. He shook his head to clear it of that nonsense. "So, what've we got?" he asked.

"Mysterious lights over the city," Jo reported, sending him the coordinates. 

"Looks like your on your own," Mack added.

"Goody," Garth said. 

The Flight Officer gave clearance and the Legend One blasted out of the hanger under the flight deck of the U.S.S. Darkhorse like the rocket that it was. 

The Captain of the Darkhorse decided that this would be a good time for an 'alien invasion' drill, just in case there was an attack in the offing.


	15. Chapt. 15

Trick or Treat, Pt 15

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

***

Minutes later, the Pit Crew found a large crowd of people gathered outside a bar at the not-so-nice side of town. The bar was bounded by industrial parks to the north and east, the Pacific Ocean to the west and empty desert to the south.

"I don't see anything," Jo reported, scanning her instruments.

"Me, neither," Mack reported. "Maybe they went into the drink."

"I'll go ask some witnesses," Garth said. "The sooner we can clear this up, the sooner we can go help Dwayne." He ejected from Legend One and headed for the crowd.

As he drew nearer, he could hear a hysterical voice. "Lights! In the sky! Dozens of them!" A dirty vagrant was ranting to a nervous audience. After decades of carnivorous mutants, unhinged robots and imperialistic aliens, lights in the sky weren't not taken lightly. "And now a giant robot!" moaned the vagrant.

Everybody looked to where he was pointing.

"Big Guy!" several people chorused at once.

"Oh, I knew that!" the vagrant muttered.

"Where are these lights, Citizen," Big Guy boomed. "Which direction were they headed?"

The vagrant waved his hands around in a circle. Maybe to indicate the lights had gone in every direction. Or maybe to point straight up. 

"There are lights! In the sky! Can't you see them?" he wailed.

Big Guy looked up, as did the rest of the audience. After a few minutes, somebody finally spoke up.

"They're called _stars_, you idiot."

"Oh," the vagrant said. "I knew that."


	16. Chapt. 16

Trick or Treat, Pt 16

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

Does anybody read this disclaimers? If so, I'll give you a cameo in my next story.

***

The last of the party-goers had arrived, which meant that it was time to get to some serious snacking. 

Slate had to admit, the spread was impressive, even if it wasn't very nutritious. 

"Look, Slate, they have vegetables here!" Hunter teased. He pointed to a section of the table with deserts.

"I don't really consider pumpkin pie to be a 'vegetable', Lieutenant," Slate said, trying to be severe.

Dwayne just grinned at her. "Well, it's not like you have to worry about what Rusty eats," he said.

"You should be worrying about Jeffy," Slate retorted.

"_We_ had a healthy dinner of vegetable soup and grilled cheese sandwiches at the diner downstairs," Dwayne retorted. "So, what did you have for dinner?"

Not wanting to admit she hadn't even had dinner, Slate decided to change the subject.

__

***

Meanwhile, Dr. Neugogg was having his own brand of snacks. He ignored the sugary treats that remained in the maze in favor of the minds of the employees who had been stationed along the route. 

He did regret eating Dr. Huckle's brain, though. 

"Not very smart, either, for all that he was getting paid more than I had!" He'd really hated working for Quark's. He hoped he'd get a chance to eat his former boss's brain tonight. Not that Donovan's brain would taste any better than Huckle's had. "Talk about empty calories," Neugogg muttered to himself.

Instead of eating the brain of the next person he met, Neugogg tried to use his mind control to force the man to lead him out of the maze.

He had limited success. The man lead him through most of the maze, but Neugogg lost his 'grip' on him when he tripped over one of the booby traps.

The man ran for it. Neugogg wasn't sure what had gone wrong. Maybe he'd over indulged in too many picayune minds like Huckle's, or maybe the huge number of intellects in one room was distracting him. Whatever the cause, he had just lost his 'native guide' as it were.

Or maybe it was because the man, while highly intelligent, was too panic stricken to even think. 

Neugogg decided on the last theory, because he could hear the man screaming. That made it extremely easy to follow him. 

Thanks to the maze, the man had only one path he could take to get out of harm's way. 

"This should lead me to the party and Dr. Slate," Neugogg mused. "Not how I would have chosen to get out of the maze," Neugogg shrugged. "But it'll do."

The screaming man dashed into the party room. "A monster!" he shrieked as he ran out the other door.

The party-goers fell silent and whirled to face the exit from the maze. Moments later, a huge spider with tentacles sprouting from his thorax burst into the room.


	17. Chapt. 17

Trick or Treat, Pt 17

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

"Hi, Ozma!"

***

It was a good thing that Garth's military career had him almost as well programmed as Rusty was, or Big Guy would have had an 'unfortunate accident' involving his titanium plated foot and the vagrant's posterior.

The audience, with one exception, was embarrassed at having called for help. "I thought I saw something, too," one timid little barmaid said. She pointed towards downtown. "But I can't be sure."

"I'm on it," Garth said. She'd pointed in the direction of the Quark Tower, Garth noted with relief. So it was time to go to the rescue and let Dwayne handle the mysterious lights in the sky.

Big Guy roared off in the indicated direction, with the Legend One following. 

"I'm getting something," Jo warned.

"Not a false alarm, then," Garth muttered when he spotted several dozen lights floating over the city. "What are those things?"

"Not very powerful, whatever they are," Mack reported. "They show up on infrared, but nothing else. No source of chemical propulsion, no weapons, no radiation, no communications, nothing. They don't even have sharp metal edges."

"I think I'd better get a close up look," Garth said. Big Guy slowed down and approached one of the lights. "It's a balloon," Garth said, rubbing his eyes to make sure they weren't playing tricks on him.

"That's it?" Jo said. "Just balloons?"

"What's with the heat signature, then?" Mack demanded.

Then Garth took a good look. "It's a… candle? My god, the balloons have Molotov cocktails tied to them." 

"Christmas," Jo said. "There's got to be three dozen of those incendiaries up here." Hurriedly, she got online to the NCFD and reported the situation.

"They'll burn down half the city if they all land," Mack said.

"This just keeps getting worse," sighed Garth. He pushed his worry about Hunter and Slate to the back of his mind the best he could. Rusty was there, between the three of them they could handle any problem, he hoped. 

He had to think fast. How the devil was he going to collect around thirty low flying fire balloons in time to prevent the city from burning down and go to his friends rescue?


	18. Chapt. 18

Trick or Treat, Pt 18

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

***

Any other day of the year, Neugogg's arrival would have been met with screams and panic. Tonight, however, he was greeted with applause. 

Taken aback, he looked around the room and scowled. "I am going to eat your brains!" he roared.

The crowd roared back in approval.

Neugogg scratched his head, being careful to avoid the exposed brain case that made up the back of his skull. "Well, you're certainly being good sports about it," he said, puzzled.

"Man, that's the best costume I have _ever_ seen!" somebody in the audience called. "And after twenty years of San Diego Comic Convention, that's saying something!"

"Ahhh…" Neugogg said, enlightened. "You think I'm just part of the decorations! Well, what if I told you that I'm a real mutant and I really eat people's minds?"

This was greeted with more cheers, whistles and even foot stomping from the children and adult guests. The Quark employees on the other hand, looked ready to faint or flee. Even if the Quark employees hadn't known Neugogg from earlier attacks, they'd have known that he wasn't part of the planned entertainment.

As a test, Neugogg made a rush at a huddle of Quark employees, who promptly screamed and ran away. The rest of the audience also screamed and sent catcalls after the fleeing brainiacs. Neugogg couldn't remember the last time that he'd had so much fun.

"And now, for my next trick, I need a volunteer from the audience," Neugogg said. He saw Dr. Slate standing irresolutely in the crowd. He knew she recognized the threat he represented. He also realized that she was faced with the tricky problem of alerting the crowd that they were in danger without starting a stampede. 

"Dr. Slate, would you care to come up here and have your brain eaten?" he wondered if he could actually pull this stunt off without tipping off the audience that he was a real monster. Once he'd eaten Dr. Slate's intellect, she'd be reduced to a babbling idiot. The change in her behavior would be obvious.

On the other hand, this group would probably think it was part of the act. He chuckled to himself. Just think, his dinner might well sit around applauding him like so many brainless boobies until… well, until he turned them all into brainless boobies. 

All he had to do was keep the people who knew the score from interfering with his fun.

"No thanks," Slate said. 

Neugogg eyed her. She was rubbing her neckline nervously, obviously trying to think of a plan. He wondered why she didn't call for help.

Just then, Rusty's Big Guy signal went off.

Rusty and Dwayne jumped. Slate sighed. So much for Big Guy coming to the rescue, she thought. Looked like Garth and the Pit Crew had their hands full.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" Neugogg asked Rusty. 

"Can't, I have to protect the audience from you!" Rusty replied defiantly.

The crowd applauded. "Yay, Rusty!"

Hunter edged away from Slate in what he hoped was an inconspicuous movement.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Neugogg said, waving a tentacle at him. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Um, to get some punch," Hunter said. "You want some?"

Neugogg probed the man's mind to gauge whether his intellect was worth eating, then he recognized the thought patterns. "No thanks, I'd rather eat your brain!" he replied excitedly. 

Here he was! Big Guy's pilot! No wonder Dr. Slate hadn't called for help, there wasn't any to be had! The tongue from his second mouth slid out and drooled at the thought of finally getting revenge.

The audience clapped and whistled. "Whoa, _wicked_ effect!" somebody said. "Hey, how about eating Donovan's brain?" someone else said. "Assuming that he _has_ one!" a third somebody called.

Distracted, Neugogg looked around. "Dr. Donovan?" he asked. He finally spotted Donovan in his party dress and fell over laughing. "Oh, I _should_ eat your brain!" he said. He rolled to his feet and charged after Donovan.

Donovan screamed and tried to run away. He ran around the refreshment table with Neugogg moving almost leisurely behind him.

The audience hooted and laughed while the Quark employees who hadn't fled, Hunter and Rusty tried to figure out a way to evacuate everybody before the situation got out of hand.

Some of the employees were managing to get the people closest to the doors to leave the room. Hunter and Slate could see expressions change from puzzled to doubt to alarm as the employees whispered sweet nothings into nearby ears.

"Lucky for us he's decided to ham it up a bit," Hunter muttered. He looked at the punch and then had an idea. "What we need is a diversion."

"He's probably never had an appreciative audience before," Slate said, sotto voce. "Rusty, distract him while we get these people out of here!"

Meanwhile, Donovan was actually being useful for a change. He was keeping Neugogg's attention on him as he fled around the table, knocking decorations over and totally ruining his expensive silk stockings.

Finally, he tripped and fell headlong into the tub of ice water. He came up, dripping and clenching an apple in his horsy teeth.

"Hey, you can't eat his brain!" Rusty said, involuntarily playing to the audience.

"Aww, let him have a snack!" some female called.

"Sorry, I'm sworn to protect all humans!" Rusty said.

"But you can't save them from their own feeble minds!" He glared at Donovan. "Come to me, NOW!"

Meanwhile, Hunter had edged closer to the punch bowl. He looked at Dr. Lester, then at the smoke that was coming from the punch bowl.

Dr. Lester wasn't a genius, but she wasn't an idiot, either. Her gaze followed Hunter's, then she shoved an insulated chest from under the table.

Deducing that the chest contained dry ice, Slate looked around for something wet that she could spread over the floor and dump the dry ice in. A nice dense fog should cover everybody's escape. 

Assuming, of course, that they could persuade the audience that they needed to escape. 


	19. Chapt. 19

Trick or Treat, Pt 19

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

***

Finally inspiration struck on two fronts. Garth sent Big Guy plummeting to the ground to find an alley or parking lot… "Ah-ha!" he said. "Trash bins!" He grabbed one in either hand and darted after the fire balloons.

"I got an idea," Mack said. "Garth, you handle the ones to the north, I'll handle these." His gnarled hands danced across the Legend One's controls and the rocket sank towards the ground.

"We landing?" Jo asked.

"Nope, just getting underneath them."

Jo caught on just before the first fire balloon hit the top of the rocket and burst into flames. The Legend One's titanium skin, built to withstand rockets and anti-aircraft fire, wasn't even smudged by the Molotov cocktail.

"Nice," she said.

"Good thinking," Garth said as he fielded several balloons with either hand. "Where are the rest?"

"Two have landed and started fires," Jo reported. "So far, nothing serious, one's in the middle of the street, the other's in a parking lot. Fire department's got a handle on 'em. There's another dozen balloons farther north of you, Garth. They look like they're going to land on the mall."

Big Guy's boot jets flared as Garth charged after the remaining fire balloons. 


	20. Chapt. 20

Trick or Treat, Pt 20

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

"It's the thrilling climax, guys!"

***

Inadvertently, Donovan made himself useful once again by solving Slate's problem. As he heaved himself out of the tub of ice water, tipping it over and spilling the water and apples all over the floor.

The fall was humiliating, but it broke Neugogg's hold on his mind. It also gave Hunter and Slate something to toss the dry ice into.

Neugogg covered his uneasiness at his mind control's failure by laughing. "Oh, too _bad_, I think you've ruined your pretty party dress," he mocked. "But don't worry, I'll take your mind off your worries as soon as I eat your brain."

Hunter shook his head. Neugogg was just having too much fun.

This was too much for Rusty. He planted himself firmly in front of Neugogg. "Leave him alone!" Rusty demanded. "Or I'll…"

"Or you'll what?" sneered Neugogg.

Rusty lost his temper, aimed his finger and fired. A bolt of greenish light struck Neugogg, causing him to flinch and stagger backward into one of the tables.

Unnoticed by most, the visitors closest to the Quark employees were beginning to slide out of the room in ones and twos. 

Rusty was blown back by the recoil of his own blast and smashed through the wall. Slate dashed through the hole in the wall, followed by several bystanders. 

Donovan crawled away and headed for the door. Neugogg looked for him and noticed the small scale evacuation.

"Oh, no you don't," snarled Neugogg. He started after the refugees. Something bounced off his exposed braincase. It didn't hurt, but it was just annoying enough to make him turn around to face his challenger and let Donovan make good his escape.

"Ah, you again," he smirked. "The so brave military pilot. I'm sorry, but I don't think we've been introduced."

"Cy Young, at your service," Hunter said. He hurled another apple, nailing Neugogg right between the eyes. As far as plans went, this one was, well, idiotic, Hunter knew. Unfortunately, he had no ideas and no time to come up with an idea. So, it was time to fall back on the old standby of blind aggression and trust to dumb luck to pull him through it.

"Cute," snarled Neugogg. "You know, your sense of humor isn't to my taste."

"So sorry to hear that," Hunter said, backing towards the ice chest.

He was happy to note that the audience had stopped laughing and there was a general air of uneasiness about them.

"Time to leave, folks," he said.

"I think not," Neugogg hissed.

People began pushing for the exits.

Neugogg lunged for Hunter. The tongue from his lower mouth snaked out to fasten itself onto the annoying pilot's face so Neugogg could suck his intellect out. The tongue reached and snagged… another apple.

Jeffy Cook WAS half Hunter, after all. And he had a wicked fast ball for somebody who had yet to graduate out of t-ball. "Leave my uncle alone!" he shouted.

"Your uncle?" purred Neugogg. "How sweet. Maybe I should eat your brain, instead!"

"Leave them alone!" Rusty soared back into the room, blasting his nucleo-proton beams apparently at random. While flying, the recoil didn't affect him as much as it did when he was on the ground, so this time he didn't disappear into the other room.

"You missed," laughed Neugogg. Then he noticed the sound of retreating feet getting softer. He looked around. Rusty's blasts had turned the walls of the party hall into something strongly resembling Swiss cheese. 

The party-goers were fleeing through every available exit. 

Hunter grabbed the ice box and flung the dry ice into the spilled water. Instant fog ensued, blocking Neugogg's view of the escaping crowd.

"That's our exit cue, sweetie," Dr. Lester told Jeffy. She grabbed his arm and booked.

"But I need to help my fwiends!" Jeffy's protests faded as they joined the general exodus.

Rusty flew overhead into the hall and more flashes of green light showed that he had made a few more exits. "Don't try to get on the elevators!" he bellowed. "Use the stairs. Careful! Don't trample anybody!"

Neugogg moved toward the exit with the intention of causing as much mayhem as possible. Then something bounced off his skull.

Neugogg wheeled around to face Hunter again and rubbed the back of his head with one tentacle. "Would you QUIT with the apples!" he complained.

"Love to," Hunter said. "But I seem to have left my anti-tank weapons in my other suit."

Neugogg snorted. "Think you're quite a big shot, eh?" Then he laughed. "Or should I say, quite the Big GUY, eh?"

"And you complained about _my_ sense of humor!" Hunter griped.

"You really have an annoying one," Neugogg agreed. Maybe I should just kill you without eating your so-called intellect." He began stalking Hunter.

"Ooo, so called intellect," Hunter mocked, backing away and looking around for something that might possibly be used as a weapon. 

Rusty was busy making sure the party-goers didn't kill each other and Slate had, presumably evacuated with the rest. Which meant he was all alone with a mutant that Big Guy had problems dealing with.

"Who ya gonna call?" he muttered. Wait… reminded of his own costume, Hunter pulled out his 'gremlin zapper' and fired it just as Neugogg's tongue snatched at him again. 

The gremlin zapper shot out purple sparks and Neugogg's tongue recoiled.

"That almost hurt," he complained.

"This might hurt more," Slate's cool voice came from behind Neugogg.

Hunter sighed. He should have known that Slate wouldn't have enough sense of self-preservation to run away.

Neugogg turned around just in time to catch a sparkling green ray in the face. Obviously Slate had supercharged the gremlin zapper somehow, possibly with some of Rusty's nucleo-protons. Not that Hunter had a clue in Hades as to how she could have managed that in such a short time.

Neugogg staggered back, wide open for a second attack.

Unfortunately, Slate's supercharged gremlin zapper had an even nastier recoil than Rusty's finger blaster and she was knocked clean off her feet.

"Nice girls don't play with guns!" said Neugogg. 

Slate had made it to her hands and knees when Neugogg ripped the gremlin zapper off of her back with a couple of his tentacles.

Hunter, who also had a problem with the concept of self-preservation, leaped onto Neugogg's back and stuck his gremlin zapper against the exposed braincase and let 'er rip.

Neugogg shrieked and convulsed, sending both Slate's gremlin zapper and Lt. Dwayne Hunter flying.

Hunter hit the wall, and Slate's gremlin zapper hit him in the stomach. Given a few minutes to recover his breath, Hunter would have turned the gremlin zapper on Neugogg.

He wasn't given those few minutes.

"I think I'll just bite your head off, you know, like a gingerbread man or something," Neugogg mused.

He opened the fang lined, upper mouth and snapped at Hunter. His gleaming white teeth smashed down… on nothing.

Hunter yelped as Rusty charged in and yanked him out of Neugogg's grip. Rusty dumped Hunter unceremoniously next to Slate. "You two get out of here, _I'll_ take care of Neugogg," Rusty ordered.

Lacking a better plan, Hunter and Slate scrambled to their feet and prepared to retreat until reinforcements arrived.

"No you don't!" Neugogg spat. He reached for Hunter's mind. "You will come to me, now!"

Hunter's mind said 'no!' even as his feet began to move towards Neugogg. 

Slate grabbed some apples and rolled them toward Neugogg.

Hunter stepped on one and fell, which broke Neugogg's hold on him.

"You!" Neugogg screamed at Slate. "Do you really think you can defeat me with a bunch of apples?"

"Not really," Slate said calmly. "But all these apples _do_ remind me of a force that might be used against you. You do know the story of Isaac Newton and the apples, don't you?"

"Of course," said Neugogg.

Slate continued as if he hadn't spoken. "But do you know that you're standing next to the window?" she gestured to the black drapery behind him.

Taking their cue, Rusty and Hunter opened fire.

The blasts flung them both backwards. The combined blasts hurled Dr. Neugogg through the drapes and out of the window.

"How high are we, anyway?" Hunter asked. Normally, he had a good sense of direction, but the maze had him slightly disoriented.

"We're only on the twentieth floor," Rusty said.

They leaned out the window and watched as Neugogg bounced off the pavement and down the street.

Rusty shot out after him. "I'll handle this!"

"You think he's dead?" Slate asked, a little shakily. Neugogg was a monster now, but he'd once been a colleague of hers.

"Doubt it," Hunter said. "Big Guy's weaponry packs a lot of punch, but never even dented him. We'll be lucky if he's even stunned."

***

Shortly after that, Big Guy and the Pit Crew arrived. Big Guy went to assist Rusty's capture, but Neugogg had the fight knocked out of him.

"Where have you been?" Hunter asked as the robots hauled the semi-conscious monster in through the shattered window.

"Mall hopping," Garth boomed through Big Guy's voice.


	21. Epilogue

Trick or Treat, Pt 21

By Jill Weber

Big Guy and Rusty characters owned by Sony and Darkhorse and are used without permission or intent to make a profit.

"Afterword"

***

Neugogg woke up in his cell again. He sighed. "Missed it by that much!" he snarled, holding up his tentacles. On the bright side, though, he'd actually had fun at a party for once. "I wonder what they're doing for Christmas," he mused.

Erika Slate had previous experience in restoring Neugogg's stolen intellects back into their owners' braincases. So she was the natural choice to fix this lot of victims. It took three days to restore everybody back to normal, and it would take several weeks before they were all back on duty.

Donovan was fretting about being shorthanded and falling behind schedule. If he was grateful for Rusty, Hunter and Slate stopping Neugogg, he gave no sign of it.

"The victims are lucky they have you around to fix them," Dwayne said when he dropped by her office to visit.

Slate eyed him warily, as if expecting a punch line. "Really?" was all she said.

Hunter nodded and looked sincere. "Honest, I'm impressed with the way you handle Neugogg's gear." He paused. 

Slate wondered if she was blushing. "Thank you," she said. She managed to prevent herself from saying 'Um' with difficulty. "So, how's Jeffy?" she asked. 'Like "so" is better than "um" she thought.

"He's fine," Hunter said. "I don't think my sister will ever speak to me again, though."

Slate grinned. "I can testify that it's not your fault!" she said. "So, what brings you here?"

"Ah, thanks," Hunter said to the first part. To the second part, he added. "I just needed to get away from Jo telling Garth 'I told you so.' Apparently, she predicted a rough night."

"Oh," Slate felt disappointed.

"I also wanted to tell you that I was impressed with how you handled yourself on Halloween," Hunter said, surprising himself as much as Slate.

Slate raised an eyebrow. "What, no lecture on being too silly to save myself?"

"No, just a sincere thank you for coming back to save me," Hunter said. "And finally, I… well, I was wondering…"

Slate's heart rate increased dramatically and she struggled to maintain a casual façade. Was he actually going to…? "Yes?" she said.

"Well, I was wondering if maybe you'd like to…" Hunter rubbed the back of his neck and a faint blush started to creep across his face.

Oh, he _was_ going to ask her out! "If I'd like to…?" she prompted.

The Big Guy signal sounded, making them both jump.

Hunter sighed. "If you'd like to do the usual, Pinky. Help us go out and save the world!" He left, humming the tune to Pinky and the Brain to keep himself from cursing.

Slate shook her head sadly. "They're Pinky, Pinky and the Dwayne, Dwayne, Dwayne, Dwayne…" she sang. Then she stopped. "Hey! That makes ME the insane one!" she bellowed after Hunter.

"Well, you're the one who doesn't have enough sense to run!" Hunter yelled over his shoulder. Then he sighed. 'That _probably_ wasn't the best way to convince her to go out with you, you idiot.' He thought as he raced off to join his crew.

Slate glared after him, then grinned. Maybe SHE should ask DWAYNE out? She started humming to herself. First, though, she needed to get revenge for that 'Pinky and the Dwayne' crack…

***

A/N: I'd like to thank you all for reading this whole thing, especially considering how long it took to finish! I actually had planned to finish it by Halloween of last year. Sigh. Oh, well, maybe I should start on the Valentine one. Maybe I'll finish by next Valentine's Day…


End file.
